


A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Hamunaptra

by alby_mangroves



Series: Words, not art [11]
Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick thought he was seeking an ancient treasure. What he found was even more valuable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Hamunaptra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/gifts).



> Thanks to MJ for the beta assistance and to the modly powers that be for all their hard work.

The wind had picked up again, sifting layers of desert and driving fine grit into every fold and crevice between skin and clothing.

Rick scowled into his headscarf, adjusting it to cover his mouth and nose. Already his heat-addled mind had begun to paint last night’s narrow escape from agonising death on the Nile as nothing more than a refreshing midnight swim.

Before them, desert sands stretched in a swathe of shimmering gold all the way to Hamunaptra, deceptively beautiful. Who knew what lay beneath it.

Whole caravans had been swallowed by the sands, never to be seen again, and that didn’t even include whatever lurked at the city of the dead; the thing which had made Rick’s hair stand on end and his instincts scream at him to _run, RUN_ and never look back was still there, he was sure of it.

With every swaying lurch of his camel it became easier to hate this godforsaken place and harder to recall his reasons for coming back. This had been a mistake.

“Are we there yet?” Carnahan whined from somewhere behind him, the tell-tale pop of his water flask followed by a deep pull from it. The man was an idiot. Rick resisted the urge to reach for his own water. One could never know out here.

“Honestly Jonathan. I’m sure Mr O’Connell is taking the most direct route,” Evelyn said with the sort of patience Rick imagined long-suffering mothers employed with annoying brats. “And stop glugging all your water, we are not exactly within stone’s throw of a well to refill it. We must think ahead.”

Rick grinned. Perhaps there was one good reason for returning after all.

“If we’re nearly there as our guide says then I don’t need to worry about it, surely we’ll be dipping our toes in a Cairo fountain by nightfall.”

“And if we’re not?” Rick said.

Evelyn’s laughter was fond, if exasperated. Rick turned at the sound, watching her eyes crinkle above the veil protecting her face. “Well, Mr O’Connell, if we are not, Jonathan could always fall back on the well known survival tactic of drinking his own urine.”

A smile spread across Rick’s face before he could check it.

“Oh, nothing so drastic as that,” Carnahan muttered, shooting a glance at Gad Hassan’s pack. Interesting. The man might be a fool but he had a good nose.

Evelyn continued on while her eyes catalogued everything they’d secured to their saddles, her mind already wandering off to find a solution. It was a thing, Rick was beginning to realise. An Evelyn Carnahan thing to do.

“I suppose we could collect dew if we happen upon rocky ground—”

“Why rocky ground?” Carnahan interrupted her, face screwed into a perplexed simpleton grimace. Rick still couldn’t quite believe those two were related.

“Jonathan, don’t you read at all? Why, it’s common knowledge that if you wait until just before the dawn to do it, dew will form on freshly turned rocks. Well, as long as you don’t get yourself stung by a scorpion in the process—”

Carnahan looked indignant. “We might still find a water source—”

“—Because that’s where they’re likely to be lurking, you see.” Rick grinned outright as Evelyn continued, completely oblivious to the wounded male ego she’d left bleeding in her wake.

“Oh no, Mr Hassan would tell you that finding a water source is highly unlikely, as we’ve seen no birds in the air at all. If there was water nearby there would be birds, isn’t that right, Mr Hassan?”

The warden blinked, looking blankly between them. “What?”

Rick watched Evelyn’s veil flutter in the breeze, the thin fabric clinging to her mouth. She turned to catch his eye and a runaway curl licked at her cheek. Rick swallowed dryly.

“Where did you learn all this?”

“No need to sound so surprised Mr O’Connell, I simply like to read.” And oh, how Rick liked it when a beautiful woman looked him squarely in the eye.

A long moment passed before he realised they’d been staring at each other. He cleared his throat, and turned away, but the moment hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“—complete scoundrel, she says,” Carnahan muttered in a sing-song. "And yet in between all the reading you've managed to find time for vanity." He shot Evelyn a pointed glare.

Rick bit back a smile and settled in for some bickering.

"If you must know, it's not simple vanity, _Jon_ athan, but practicality.” She paused, fingers smoothing wild curls away from her eyes which had been lined with thick kohl. “The ancient Egyptians painted their eyes this way for a reason and it’s not just because they wanted to look alluring. It serves to—"

"—Lessen the glare," Rick said.

Evelyn paused, surprised.

“Lessen the glare. Just so, Mr O’Connell.”

She smiled beneath her veil and something settled in Rick's chest, a flutter of unexpected warmth.

Perhaps it hadn’t been a mistake to come back. After all, what could possibly go wrong?


End file.
